


tr[U]st

by philliam



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Soft Boys, post Kings Men, soft moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philliam/pseuds/philliam
Summary: “I’ll live,” Neil responds because he doesn’t know what else to say, and he hates to admit Andrew’s right.Andrew shifts his weight more on Neil’s stomach. “You don’t trust me?”“I do,” Neil immediately replies, missing how this is connected to Andrew’s statement.“Your subconsciousness doesn’t”.Neil rolls his eyes. “Don’t go Freud on me.” He gets it now, but he won’t give Andrew the chance to think this is something he can protect Neil from. “It’ll be over, just give me some time.” It’s a luxury, saying give me some time and knowing it’s true; he actually has time now because he has a future.-----------------------------or: they can be soft and caring in their own way and i will fight anyone saying something else





	tr[U]st

When Neil awakes, he’s scrambling for the gun under his pillow to get the weight off his back.  
The rush of adrenaline punches through his body and screams at him to get on his feet and fucking go, but the grip on his wrists is too strong, the weight on his torso too heavy, and he’s 0.6 seconds away from begging Nathan to spare him.  
“Josten. Josten,” someone hisses above him, and then, “Neil.” And just like that, everything slides back into focus and Neil’s looking up at Andrew.  
Neil’s head falls back, and he groans. “Fuck.”  
Andrew doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. “You don’t say.”  
They stay like that for a moment, wait for Neil’s labored breath to turn shallow and soft. Andrew lets go of Neil’s hands but apparently he’s pretty comfortable on his lap because he doesn’t move away, and Neil can’t decide if the weight is like a chain around his neck or the life line he needs. In the end, it’s good because Andrew’s weight on him is familiar; it’s something he knows how to handle.

Neil runs his hands over his face, through his hair. His forehead’s sticky with sweat and strands of wet, auburn hair slide through his fingers. He’s trying to remember the last time he’s had a calm night, but lately they’re filled with nightmares like this where the edges of dream and reality go blurry and he can’t immediately tell if he’s still with the Foxes or back in Baltimore. Neil is so adamant in drilling into his head that he’s safe, that Nathan is dead, and Riko is dead, and no one can get to him (not with Andrew around anyway) that it backfires and his imagination comes up with all sorts of gruesome scenarios portraying his mom choking on thick, black smoke, his teammates in various states of unrepairable damage, Andrew, oh, Andrew caught in a straitjacket with foreign hands all over him, but he only smiles, and smiles and doesn’t care.

Neil wants to forget those pictures, wants to claw them out of his mind. He feels like throwing up (very unfortunate for Andrew) but also like getting up and run around the campus until someone finds his passed out form lying near a dumpster (very unfortunate for Wymack). Instead he just stays on the bed, beneath Andrew and wills himself to calm down.  
“Walk it off, Josten,” Andrew says. He’s slightly leaning over Neil, his fingers sprawled over his stomach. The warmth of Andrew’s hand sinks through Neil’s thin shirt and helps in calming him.  
“You’ll let me?” he asks, peeking from between slightly parted fingers first at Andrew, then out of the black window. Andrew pretends to think about it, then says, “No.”  
Finally, Neil relaxes against the soft mattress beneath him, takes one deep breath, then a second, and he’s convinced himself he’s fine.  
Andrew tugs at one of his elbows, demanding Neil gets his hands off his face. “Talk to me, Josten.”  
“I’m fi—,” Neil starts, but Andrew slaps his hand against Neil’s mouth, silencing him.  
“Say it and I will kick you in your face,” Andrew threatens. Neil considers it for a split second (it will knock him out immediately minus the unpleasant dreams) but Andrew squints at him, daring him to make the wrong decision, so eventually, Neil nods. Andrew doesn’t withdraw his hand immediately, so Neil (because he’s stupid like that) pushes his tongue out and licks over Andrew’s open palm. He doesn’t really know what he expects, it’s not like Andrew would squeal like a high school girl. But what Andrews does is leisurely taking his hand back, saying “You’re disgusting” (as if Neil’s tongue hasn’t been on other body parts of him already) and wipe the saliva off on Neil’s shirt, which was only fair.

A groan escapes Neil’s lips— he’s become so bad at conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, he’s sure his mom is currently sitting somewhere above him, chipping at pegs with Neil’s name on them, only to be reminded he doesn’t need to pretend he’s fine anymore— and he wants a smoke, but he also doesn’t want to get up because that would mean Andrew has to get off of him, and Neil’s just as addicted to Andrew’s weight on him as he is to nicotine. In the end, he decides to stay like this, his finger sneak towards Andrew’s bare, bent knees, but he doesn’t touch, not without Andrew’s permission. Either Andrew doesn’t notice Neil’s fingers in close proximity or he ignores them, because he says, “It’s getting worse, right?” It’s not a question. It wasn’t a secret that lately Neil’s sleep was the opposite of resting and calm, but with like everything, he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it and he manages through the day thanks to Matt and Nicky providing him with coffee (at some days, Aaron even joins them, but Neil suspects it’s because he’s trying to poison Neil with caffeine).  
“I’ll live,” Neil responds because he doesn’t know what else to say, and he hates to admit Andrew’s right.  
Andrew shifts his weight more on Neil’s stomach. “You don’t trust me?”  
“I do,” Neil immediately replies, missing how this is connected to Andrew’s statement.  
“Your subconsciousness doesn’t”.  
Neil rolls his eyes. “Don’t go Freud on me.” He gets it now, but he won’t give Andrew the chance to think this is something he can protect Neil from. “It’ll be over, just give me some time.” It’s a luxury, saying give me some time and knowing it’s true; he actually has time now because he has a future.

Andrew considers him for a moment, then falls beside Neil and does the unthinkable: He curls into Neil’s side and closes his eyes.  
Neil’s breath catches in his throat. He feels stupid again, and asks, “You’ll stay, right?”  
Andrew ignores him, tugs his hand between cheek and pillow for more comfort (Neil doesn’t understand how bones are more comfortable, but maybe just as Neil slumping his shoulders to appear invisible is a habit for him, Andrew’s still used to trying to make sleeping more comfortable with the little he has on him), and then he kicks Neil’s leg and it takes a second for Neil to realize Andrew’s actually sliding his leg between Neil’s.  
Neil exhales slowly and says, “Okay”, and then just for good measure he repeats, “Okay”, because he feels that Thank You would ruin the moment and he really wants for Andrew’s leg to stay where it is.

He knows his nightmares won’t just disappear, but just like them, Andrew won’t go away as well and knowing that makes falling asleep in the darkness a lot easier.

**Author's Note:**

> i would die for these idiots


End file.
